


Walk

by QuokkaFoxtrot



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Insomnia, M/M, Newtvember, Walking, exercise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 10:58:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2579090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuokkaFoxtrot/pseuds/QuokkaFoxtrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt had tried jogging once - it was awful. Running without a destination or a pack of angry, snarling wolves on his tail seemed stupid. His shoes pinched, his shorts rode up and chafed, and by the time he’d made it around the block once he was a sweaty, pink, puffy mess. <i>And</i> he’d swallowed a fly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walk

**Author's Note:**

> Got in a writing rut and had Antheia give me a three word prompt: Pier Run Dawn. Clearly words to inspire a story about walking.

Newt had tried jogging once - it was awful. Running without a destination or a pack of angry, snarling wolves on his tail seemed stupid. His shoes pinched, his shorts rode up and chafed, and by the time he'd made it around the block once he was a sweaty, pink, puffy mess. _And_ he'd swallowed a fly.

He never tried again.

He walks now, sometimes. Puts his headphones in and steps to the beat when he needs to get away from data that makes no sense, samples that give no answers, and Hermann and his constant chalk scraping and muttering. He doesn't need a uniform to walk. No special shorts and shoes, just his trusty boots and whatever he's wearing that day to fulfil the basic requirements of modesty.

Some days he walks through the halls of the Shatterdome; stopping to chat with people he knows, breezing past with a wave and a smile when he doesn't feel like talking. Others he makes his way up to LOCCENT and shoots the shit with Tendo and the other techs on duty, pacing around the consoles as they talk until the Marshall appears and he's made to leave with a stern look and a quiet reprimand.

The only times he doesn't enjoy the walks are when they feel _necessary_. When it's five in the morning and he still hasn't slept and there's so much energy thrumming under his skin that he knows if he tries to sleep he'll just lie awake and toss and turn, trying to catch any of the thoughts buzzing through his mind, flitting like lightning bugs just out of his grasp.

That's when his walks lead him out of the Shatterdome and down to the shore.

The light's dim and hazy just before dawn, dew settling on the few plants struggling to grow out through the rocks at the edge of the beach. There's a pier a few miles away, jutting out into the ocean old and dilapidated, soon to be just a series of stumps sticking out into the water.

He makes his way down to the waves gently lapping at the sand and stares out into the ocean thinking that if the breach had never opened, if he were still in Boston, he'd be in a lab or teaching and he'd probably be mostly happy. A little bored, but still pretty content. 

If the water's calm enough, he'll try to skim stones along the surface. He's never quite got the knack of it, but he's nothing if not tenacious. 

"The angle of your wrist is wrong. You need more force and a faster _flick_."

The voice startles him and he fumbles the stone. It falls into the water with a low _bloop_ and he stares at the ripples flowing away from it with a feeling of hollow disappointment.

"Are you here-here, or am I just imagining you're here?" Newt asks, glancing at Hermann out of the corner of his eye.

"Is hallucinating my presence a regular occurrence for you?" Hermann looks at Newt, eyes narrowed shrewdly as he leans on his cane and sinks into the sand slightly.

"I've hallucinated so many people, man," Newt says with a tired, self-deprecating laugh. "The less sleep I get, the more normal it seems. I mean, it's, what? Five-thirty? And we're on a beach? I bet I could put my hand right through you." He reaches out towards Hermann's shoulder, expecting his hand to slide right through, but when he hits mass and Hermann jostles, staring down at him with a raised eyebrow, he figures he's not hallucinating. "Oh. So, real, then."

"Quite," Hermann says and turns to look out to sea.

Newt has to squeeze Hermann's arm to be sure. The uncomfortable shift and shrug of Hermann's shoulders sees his hand sliding off to hang limply by his side.

"How long has it been?" Hermann asks, not looking at him. "Since you slept."

"Um." Newt blinks slowly and looks at the side of Hermann's head. "What year is it?"

"Figures," Hermann says with a sniff and adjusts his grip on the cane, posture shifting so he's a little less straight. "Have you tried?"

"No," Newt says voice dripping with sarcasm. "Walking all the way out here and throwing rocks at the breach just seemed like a better option."

"You'd definitely need more force if you want to hit the breach. And your trajectory is all wrong," Hermann says and raises a hand, waving a pointed finger in a circle to their left. "The breach is over there."

"Why are you even _out here_?" Newt asks in a tired voice, shoulders slumping - he wants to fight, really, he does, but as fast as his thoughts are going, they're not connecting with anything. He doubts he could come out with a coherent comeback, let alone the zinger Hermann's used to by now.

"I always take my morning constitutional here," Hermann says and he's turning to face Newt, lips pursed as he eyes him up and down before jerking his head back towards the Shatterdome. "Come. My mother had a surefire cure for sleeplessness."

"Does this cure involve heavy duty sedatives?" Newt asks with a raised eyebrow - medical had cut him off, but if Hermann was willing to share... 

"Sadly, no," Hermann says as he orients himself to walk away. "A special concoction of warm spiced milk handed down from her mother. We should have everything in the commissary."

"Ugh, no thanks. Warm milk tastes like snot feels," Newt says with a shudder.

"That's what the nutmeg's for," Hermann says over his shoulder as he walks away.

"Are you trying to poison me?" Newt demands, hands placed firmly on his hips.

"Yes, Newton. That is exactly what I'm trying to do," Hermann says with a shake of his head. "I would surmise that with your stature, a mere sprinkle of the stuff would see you incapacitated forthwith."

Newt snorts and follows, clomping up the sand to catch up. "Asshole," he says with a smile and Hermann pats him awkwardly on the shoulder.

"An asshole with a remedy for your current predicament," Hermann says as he lets his hand drop. Newt kind of misses the warmth of the touch.

"Remember you said that when I'm standing in the lab in three hours time shouting at you in Spanish," Newt says as they walk side by side back to the Shatterdome.

"You don't speak Spanish."

" _Exactly_."

Sometimes when Newt walks now, Hermann joins him. Newt slows his stride and they argue about theories and methods and lob insults at each other like they're playing frisbee in the park. 

Sometimes they meet on the shore as dawn is breaking and Hermann holds out a hand until Newt passes him a stone and he skims it with elegant precision. They watch as the stone skips and dances and sinks with a soft _bloop_ in the distance.

By some unknown indicator that only Hermann can discern, Hermann will place a hand on Newt's shoulder and turns him back towards the Shatterdome, leading him to the kitchens. He'll prepare him a glass of warm milk with a sprinkle of nutmeg and Newt will call him a treacherous asshole as he pretends to gag it down.

Newt's eyes will begin to droop and Hermann will lead him back to his quarters, helping him navigate past the people beginning to crowd the halls as they make their ways to work. And if, upon reaching his door, Newt says _thanks_ and Hermann returns _your welcome_ , neither will ever mention it.

Sometimes in his dreams, Newt walks. He has nowhere specific to be, but Hermann is beside him calling him names and tearing down his theories. That's destination enough for him.


End file.
